


A Promise

by StripedScribe



Series: Febuwhump2021 [21]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Torture, Dark, Gun Violence, I'm Sorry, Knives, M/M, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedScribe/pseuds/StripedScribe
Summary: The worst possible form of torture. To not be hurting himself, but forced to inflict that pain on his partner, any punishment felt only by Matt.And the slow realisation there's only one way out.FebuWhump Day 20 [Torture]
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Series: Febuwhump2021 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136723
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please check the tags. Please don't read if there's anything there you're not comfortable with, there's no glimpses of happiness in this one.

It was the only time he was allowed to touch and see Matt. When he was sobbing with pain and fear, and they put a knife in his hand. A gun to both their heads, the threat of what would happen if he didn’t follow their demands, if he didn’t cut and punish and torture Red.

He tried to be careful, to make the cuts as small, as shallow as they would let him get away with. But always with the knowledge of the last time he tried to get away with a minor injury, that they’d taken over, leaving gashes and wounds all over Matt’s body before dragging him out of sight again. They’d forced him to brand him, being dragged into the room and presented with a burning hot metal rod, the caricature of devil’s horns on the end. A permanent scar on his chest, the smell of burnt skin, charred hair. The scream Matt gave, the pain and suffering Frank was putting him through.

He’d begged Frank to do it at first. The threat of what worse they could do to the both of them if he didn’t let it happen, of needing to survive for long enough to escape, to be rescued. “I can handle a little pain to let us get out.”

Every time he saw him again, he worried it was going to be a motionless body. Too much blood loss, too much pain, dragged apart every night after a day of torture.

They were at least dressing Matt’s wounds, systematic in where they forced the injuries, which part of the body to aim at next.

Scars and bruises soon covering even his face, shaking hands as a knife was dragged below those sightless eyes. The weep of blood, a death mask over his face, covering Frank’s arms.

As much as he scrubbed in the tiny sink in his cell, he couldn’t get the blood off. Stuck to his skin, under his nails, a grim reminder of what he was being forced to do. He should have just let them kill them both.

Not gone along with their sadistic torture. Not getting their hands dirty, leaving it all to him, to have the sight of Red’s broken face in his nightmares.

It was a mercy, to be the one doing it instead of them. To hurt him with love and care, instead of the messy cuts that would surely lead to infection and sepsis.

Like the time they cut a gash so deep into Matt’s arm he struggled to staunch the bleeding, and even now, he couldn’t move it properly, muscle or tendon too injured to heal. A messy scar to join the others, too many from their time here. Matt getting weaker and weaker every day, less and less bare skin, covered in cuts, scars and bandages. Both getting weaker and weaker. The heavy lull of depression sinking into his mind, awful terrible thoughts.

They weren’t going to be get out of here. God knows he’s tried. An attempt to escape out of his cell, being dragged in and left there for a day. What he thought was a minor punishment, until he saw Matt again, saw the new injuries, the bruises and likely broken ribs.

It could be easy enough, to cut too deep, to cut in just the right place. Be quick enough to kill him, put him out of this misery, and then try and do the same to himself. Finish it all. Better to have peace then to have this pain.

Could that be his decision to make?

Matt was getting so weak. So much blood lost, even for whatever care they gave him when they were separated, washing his skin, patching his wounds. Torture twisted into kindness from their captors. Surely, surely turning him against Frank, when the only time they could see each other, he just caused pain.

Until the one day Matt came in looking so weak, so shaky, barely even able to hold his own head up. So many wounds, so many healing scars, and one must be infected.

“Please. Frank. I can’t.” His voice harsh from sickness and screaming.

They trusted him more now, to step a bit further away as he carried out the torture, protect their too shiny shoes from the blood. It would be easy. Just himself to deal with.

And with one half of their double-act gone, they might even do it themselves.

To caress his face for the last time, whispering words of apologies, of peace. What murmurs he could remember of Last Rites, a prayer passed between them before a final cut, stab, blood leaking between them, holding Matt up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s okay.” A gargling breath as hands jumped on him, pulling him away, watching Matt drop to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

A second slash, across his own wrist, blood mixing together in a promise.

And then the bang of a gun blessed him into death. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please stay safe. I love you all. xxx


End file.
